She was
orphaned at the age ofthreeand
moved to Baltimore
when she was twelve. She was an avid reader with a remarkable memory. In 1927
she married Claud Frye, who ran a clothing business, while she grew and sold
flowers. The poem for which she became famous was originally composed on a brown
paper shopping bag. Because people liked her twelve-line, untitled verse, she
made many copies and circulated them privately. She never published or
copyrighted the poem.[1]

The identity
of the author of the poem was unknownuntil thelate
1990s, when Frye revealed that she had written it. Her claim was confirmed in
1998 after research byAbigail Van Buren.[1]

Death is nothing at all.

I have only slipped
away into the next room

I am I and you are
you: whatever we were to each other, that we still are.

Call me by my old
familiar name,

Speak to me in the
easy way you always used.Put no
difference into your tone; wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always
laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.Play,

smile, think of me,
pray for me.Let my name be forever the
same as it always was.Let it be spoken
without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant.

It is the same as it
always was; there is absolutely unbroken continuity.

I am but waiting for you,
for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.

While at St Paul’s Cathedral
Holland delivered asermonin
May 1910 following the death ofKing Edward VII, titledDeath the King of Terrors, in
which he explores the natural but seemingly contradictory responses to death:
the fear of the unexplained and the belief in continuity. It is from his
discussion of the latter that perhaps his best-known writing,Death is nothing at all, is
drawn:

27 comments:

I can imagine that poems like these are a great comfort to you - they would be to me. I once attended a funeral where the pastor told of a good simile for death. Imagine that the person is going away on a ship. You are waving good bye to them as they sail away - and eventually that ship will land somewhere else and that person will be welcomed by other people. I found that to be a great comfort.

Och hen, I'm truly saddened by the news that greets me on my return. Both Siobhan and myself extend our deepest condolences to you and the family.

Although I am no a believer in any religion, I shall stand this evening at a very peaceful place on the loch by the name of Firkin Point and cast a few flowers and say a few words of my own for a fellow Scot.

After tracking back to the original post by you, I find that your dignity speaks volumes about just what a very special lady you are. May your God bless you Pat.

Judy: it's too soon for me to find comfort from that. He's still close and I want to keep him near me as long as possible.

Kim: I've got the 'out of focus' problem just now.

Naomi: I can hear you telling me to always have batteries available:)I do hang on to all the uplifting thoughts and there is no harm in the odd tear or three. The tears are preferable to the bleakness and panic. All gettng better each day.

Chef: so glad that you are back dear friend and MTL and I thank you and Siobhan for your thoughtfulness. I hope the weather is kind.MTL really enjoyed his last meal - courtesy of you. I made two pies and our French son also found it delicious.

These are beautiful poems – so meaningful. Having nature starting to wake up will help I would think. I find that nature is a great comfort with sadness and problems. I am sending warm thoughts of support to you.

Dear lady, we made good on the promise to visit Firkin Point the day. A mixed bouquet, mainly yellow in colour were cast upon the loch, words were spoken. The sun shone and the trees creaked their approval. Keep the faith hen.

G adjo: we didn't use them in the service - I didn't think but the tributes from two sons and one step- son said it all.

UB: half of me wants to get back to normal and half of me wants to stop the world for a moment.

Mage: you know what I'm talking about.xox

Marjolein: that they are.

Lom:hang around a bit longer honey:)

Chef: thank you from both of us. BTW he wasn't a saint. I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt that it was from a long time ago but in an old tin file we found 6 and a half bottles of whiskey wrapped in plastic so they wouldn't clink.The last few years he has been pretty saint-like.

Ahh hen, no man fae Scotland is a saint, of that you can be sure. It's no in our nature to be angels, but he loved you, of that there is no doubt, you can see it in his eyes, the glow. Only a good strong woman can put that glow into a mans eyes.

True Scots, we never mourn or greet fae long, we adjust and celebrate the wans who go on before us. It takes the sting and fear out of the passing by knowing that when it is our turn we all meet up again. Keep that in mind dear lady.

I love both of those poems, Pat. It seems like we do people a disservice by talking about them in hushed tones after they're dead -- forgetting their humanity and imperfections. We should celebrate the people we love and keep them alive in our hearts forever.

GG: it's hour to hour - I don't like to think too far ahead and I have so many chores at the moment which I quite enjoy.I'm looking forward to Friday when our French son arrives for the week-en and we're going to Taunton on Saturday. Yippee!

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About Me

Grand mother but still a girl at heart. Married to MTL(my true love)after a separation of 30 years. Had three careers: trained paediatric nurse, National photographic model and business woman. Now settled in SW and enjoying our five children and ten grandchildren and making the most of what time we have left.
In January 2013 I lost MTL.